Part #5


Dreams had found me again in the night, dreams of fire. Not the Dark Fire that so often haunted them but the fire at the Traveler's Rest. Standing helpless while those I held dearest burned alive. Always, the dream ended with that memory of searing pain, the demon's mocking laughter in my ears. I had ripped myself awake, sweat pouring down me, and rolled from my bed. Cenny. I had been left with nightmares after that turn's events. He had been left with eyes full of demon dust, a malady that eventually took his sight. Guilt. And not the nice clean guilt that comes when you know for a fact you have done wrong. My guilt was the kind without boundaries, the kind that defied logic and others reassurances....the kind that seeped and ate away at my self-confidence. I had gathered them there to die. Afterward I sank myself into one of the darkest moods I have ever felt. Locked myself in the Growlery intent on staying there. Thorne had kicked me out. Forced me back above ground and into the world, which was exactly what I needed. I had carried my mood with me though, a walking ball of self-loathing. It was Hojo who brought me out of it. Turning my guilt into burning anger, and then standing impassively while it ran its course. Stepping out of the path of the words I threw....and the rock. I owed him so much. He had taught me of history, explained the wide world I had been thrust into with a patience that few posses. More then that though he had given me a sense of safety, a vital thing in those early days when so very much brought me fear. His presence in the land gave me the freedom to giggle, dance and play.

Fear, something I had conquered in so many forms. From my early fear of pretty much everything, to my later fear upon the realization that some humans were as twisted and sick as the demons and their Lord. The worm. I remember cowering in the attic of the mine after he had yanked back my head, held his teeth near my throat. The taunting messages he sent me telling me that all those awake were his guild-kin....that none would come to my aid. Trapped there in the dark with the gremlins and the knowledge that even without the demons, the darkness, my world was not a safe one. But the morning had come, and with it Synvasti. She had filled the attic with stories instead of fear, woven magic in the place where I had crouched shivering through the night. Later, I had realized that his words held only lies, he had hidden his actions from the guild that he had professed were on his side. The one I had tried to free from his clutches freed himself in the end. The Remnants gathered around me, letting me know I was not alone. And I realized that the darkness that was in me, the one I had hoped the worm could help me understand, was so very different from the one that festered in him. One beyond his comprehension. And so I freed myself from both my fear of him, and my fear of that which lay within me. Now it was a different fear I wrestled with, the fear of rejection, the fear of disappointing. Would I forever live my life for the pleasure of others? The thought of shedding all my binds, the real and the perceived, was almost as frightening as the thought of living forever with them.

I shook both the dreams and the memories from my head and pulled my dog-eared stack of notes from my pack. I threw myself into work as is my wont in moments like this. I fluttered from project to project as I love to do, designs for a kitchen interspersed with observations on tendril strength. Lists of knowledge I still needed to attain about clerics setting atop a half written letter of reply to my mother. I worked through the early marcs before dawn finally brought light into the bed chamber, sending pleasant shadows dancing across the room. A soft knock on my door followed soon after by Conner pulled me from my work. We had a breakfast to attend with a vintner, hopefully, if I could wheedle myself into the meeting. I glanced up at Conner distractedly, numbers and tendrils still running through my thoughts. “Good morning, please come in.” I gave him a warm smile, he really had grown on me over the past turns...though I had yet to attempt kissing him again, much to his bemusement.

“You are awake, good.” he said as he walked towards me, dismissing the parchments and sketches that lay scattered around me as he always did. I think he thought they were cushion designs or some such nonsense. “Lynar sent a message of reply, he would be glad to meet with you as well and looks forward to it. So you had best get dressed.” His words brought a spark to me, a bit of life and I quickly stacked my parchments and tucked them back in my pack.

“Did you ask about touring his vineyard? Or the rest?” I inquired over my shoulder as I started digging for my comb. Excitement filling me, speeding my movements.

“Viv, they are not going to let us over that bridge, we talked about that. Nor am I going to risk insulting Lynar by trying to press the matter. Also, I refuse to ask the man about some gruff looking Valornian who may or may not actually be here, who may or may not have a map and who may or may not be a threat. You can't even tell me what the man looks like.” He did have a point on that one, I hurriedly pulled the list of knowledge I still needed from my pack and added a line 'Ask commander for portrait of Macleon.” he would just love that request. I giggled to myself. I grinned up to Conner, feeling suddenly light hearted and free. A flicker of the old me returning.

“Well, you should leave then, I need to get ready....must look my best if I am to charm the information out of him myself, eh?” I smiled mischievously in anticipation of the game that lay ahead. Doing something would feel so very good again. And besides, I wanted that map. Or rather wanted that map safely in the Commander's or the Queen's keeping. I had ever since Rufus the Lucky mentioned the blasted thing. The thought of Rufus bolstered me even more, sending my confidence to a peak as thought of him always did. Not often you meet a person that can boil your blood at the mere thought, and in a decidedly pleasant way. Conner's next words brought it all crashing down.

“You are going to behave yourself, right Viviyana? This is an important negotiation, we stand to make a lot of plat.” Behave myself. Keep my place, smile, charm, support Conner. My blood boiled in a completely different way and my hand clenched around my comb, digging small divots into my flesh. Luckily, my face was turned from him, he was unaware.

“Weren't you leaving? I need to dress.” my tone remained calm, cold. I heard his sigh, and then the door closing behind him. I carefully dressed in a formal toga, and sat in front of my looking glass. With repetitive motions I ran the comb over and over through my lengthening hair. It fell past my shoulders now, so beautiful I looked with the light catching the bronze strands, making it shimmer like fire. I set the comb down and turned to my sewing box, opening the lid and taking from it the shears. I kept my eyes fixed on my reflection as I began to cut, smiling as the large hunks began to pile around me. Unlike at the lake I cut not out of emotion, not out of some manner of self hatred. I cut my hair this time because I was tired of combing it, tired of it getting in my eyes during battle, and because it was, after all, MY hair.